I
really have tried hard with Bonnie
Prince Billy, aka Will Oldham. If
you don’t know, he’s from the home
of Bourbon, Louisville, Kentucky; also the birthplace
of Mohammed Ali who had a street named after him
(reminding me of a very funny story about the
Pendennis
Club, which I’ll leave ‘till later)
and indeed, of the famous Louisville Slugger.

It’s
not that Billy lacks advocates. Almost every thinking-person’s
newspaper or magazine deifies him on a regular basis,
and Dave rarely misses an opportunity to sing his
praises – as he did, in typically engaging
Dave style, here.
But we all know how subjective our appreciation
of music is and, no matter how intriguing the press
and valued or trusted the recommendations, I’ve
never quite connected with Mr Prince’s music.
Don’t misunderstand, his songs are wonderful
in their structure, the lyrics aching, searching,
deeply personal, yet hugely accessible. But there’s
just something missing. Recessive production and
too much wistful melancholia, I just don’t
know what. As we sat at the table next to Bonnie,
band, entourage and crumpled pile of papers in Wagamama,
chomping noodles, tofu and snow-peas, I was tempted
to ask him what it might be, but he was so engaged
in his grub and thoughts that it seemed rude.

As
it happens I didn’t need to, because this
truly splendid performance (so good that I put my
notebook away, sat back and allowed the blessed
music to roll over me, just like waves on the white
sands of an isolated Hedridean beach) provided the
answer. Josh Abrams on bass, Emmett Kelly on guitar
and vocals, Cheyenne Mize on guitar, violin and
harmonies and the other great Jim White driving
the band along on drums, with Billy’s own
eclectic grungy guitar, gave his fine songs a compelling
edge. Gave them the punch that they often seem to
lack on record. Alt. country, punk country, indie
folk country rock punk, maybe a touch of acid-house?
I have no idea what you call it, but it was a thing
of beauty. I’ve noticed a few comments on
forums that the hard-assed country style killed
some of the songs, but for me, combined with Mr
Prince’s vocals (and the joyful harmonies)
it brought them vividly to life. And you do know
how good a performance is when a song ends, only
to be greeted by that wonderful moment of awed silence
from the audience. That was what followed ‘I
see a darkness’.

Bonnie Prince Billy, dancing Appalachian style

There’s
a thin line to be walked between art and artfulness
and I’ve never been sure which side Mr Bonnie
is on, but in this performance, his demeanour (bib
and braces donned après noodles), absurdist
comments, occasional Appalachian-style dancing,
indeed the whole package, seemed entirely natural
and fully engaged with the music. Of course BPB
has a new album out, Beware, and he played about
half-a-dozen songs from it. But there were almost
another
twenty songs drawn from his extensive back catalogue
of work and all played with the same overwhelming
intensity, not a dud amongst them. And I wasn’t
going to forget support act Susanna,
an impressive three-piece from Norway fronted by
the wonderfully-voiced Susanna Wallumrod, with Helge
Sten on a very other-worldly guitar, who provided
the perfect amuse-bouche for Mr Billy.

Maybe
we’re just lucky, but this one rocketed into
‘Gig of the year’ contention, usually
a small space which is already getting very crowded.
And my advice: well of course buy Bonnie Prince
Billy’s albums, since it’s how he makes
a living, but don’t take them at face value
and please go and see him perform live. It’s
a wonderful visceral experience, which for what
it’s worth nearly had me in tears. - Nick
Morgan (concert photographs by Kate)